Not over yet
A spider in the shower.
Pinned flat by each drop. Nowhere to go.
I tried to lift it clear but it kept slipping.
Each time it found my hand it lost it again.
Eventually it held on.
I carried it out and set it on the tile.
It lay there on its back not moving.
Looked like I'd made things worse.
Left it there and got on with my day.
When I came back the tile was empty.
It was halfway up the bathroom wall. Moving like nothing had happened.
Like the story I'd written in my head was none of its business.
How many things have recovered while you weren't watching?
I left the spider for dead. Came back and it was halfway up the wall. The endings we write in our heads aren't always the real ones.
